I Can Help
by sleepy eskimo
Summary: The kingdom is about to fall, and it seems there is no hope left. The Knights of the Round Table gather one last time to say goodbye. But is it really all over, or will help come from a most un-expected source? Of course it will. Who are we kidding? This is Merlin!
1. Chapter 1

Arthur sat at the Round Table, looking around at his most trusted knights. His face was tight with exhaustion, and his fists were clenched where they rested in front of him.

" Morgana's army out-number us ten to one. They surround us completely, and we will not be able to hold them off for another day. Her sorcerers will begin their attack soon, and we have no defence against them." He met each of their eyes in turn. "I fear that tomorrow, we will fall." There was a moment of silence, as they took in what their king was saying. Then another voice broke that silence.

"Arthur." The king turned to the young man standing behind him.

"Yes, Merlin?" Merlin's blue eyes flickered nervously from face to face, then he took a deep breath, and set his shoulders back.

"I can help." Arthur smiled wryly.

"Somehow, I don't think having my armour polished is going to sway the results." Merlin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Arthur's.

"No. I mean, I can help. I can… call in some people… to fight with us." Arthur snorted.

"I appreciate the thought, but I hardly think having the people of Ealdor coming to our aid will make that much of a difference." Merlin's eyes sharpened.

"Arthur, for once in your life, listen to me!" Arthur sat back, startled at his normally gentle servant's anger, and the knights jerked in surprise. Lancelot raised his head.

"Merlin, are you sure?" Merlin nodded.

"There's no other way."

Arthur cut in. "Would either of you care to explain to the rest of us what on earth you are talking about?" Merlin took a deep breath.

"I have several armies under my command, and a few more whose leaders owe me their allegiance." His voice was rushed. "There are also one or two kingdoms which will come to my aid if I ask." He glanced around at the shocked faces of his friends and swallowed. "If you wish, I can have most of them here by morning, and the rest soon after." He jumped as a chair scraped back over the stone flooring, and Lancelot walked round to stand by his side. Gwaine and Percival followed his example, standing just behind his, with their expressions ones of defiance and determination. The others had not moved, their frozen faces still staring blankly at Merlin. Arthur was the first to react.

"What are you saying, Merlin?" His voice was slow and careful. Merlin kept his gaze steady.

"I am saying that if you put your prejudices aside in favour of protecting your people, then I can offer you services which may well save your kingdom."

When Arthur did not reply, Leon asked "And what services would you be offering, exactly?"

Merlin glanced back at the men who stood with him. Percival nodded calmly, Lancelot smiled encouragingly, and Gwaine grinned all out violently. He turned back to Arthur and looked him straight in the face.

"I command the druids and the Singh, and both Queen Annis and King Lot owe me their allegiance." Arthur's expression was growing darker with each word, so Merlin hurried on. "As well as them, I can call on the aid of the Kingdom of Draygon, and the People of both the Forests and the Mountain Skies." He paused. "And, if you think they can help, the People of the Waters." By this time, Arthur looked ready to kill Merlin with his bare hands.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he spat. Gwaine drew his sword in ready for an attack. "You expect us to believe that a serving boy not even twenty years old-" Merlin's head shot up, and the king and his knights watched in amazement as he seemed to grow before their eyes. His spine straightened and his features set in an expression of confidence and pride. When he spoke his voice echoed around the room, strong and self-assured.

"You know me by my birth name, but that is not my full title. In the land of my people, I am known as Merlin Ambrious, crown prince of Draygon, Son of King Balinor, High Lord of the Dragons, and Queen Hunith, heir to the throne of the Mountain Skies. I am Lord Emrys, King of the Druids and the Singh, or Fairie People. I am lover to the Lady of the Lake, commander of life and death, slayer of the High Priestess Nimwheh, and honoured friend of the People of the Waters. I hold power over the Kingdoms of Queen Annis and King Lot, and am High Priest of the Isle of the Blessed." His eyes were blazing gold as he stared down at the knights and their king, all of which were pressed into their seats in a mixture of fear, disbelief and shock. Even the knights standing behind him had backed away, their hands raised before their eyes to shield them from the fierce winds which caused their hair and cloaks to be blown back violently.

Slowly though, the wind died down, and Merlin's eyes darkened to their usual cobalt blue. Nobody moved, and eventually, Merlin spoke.

"That is why, if you so wish, Sire, I can help you to defeat Morgana's army, and assure that she never again rises to power." He smiled slightly, and suddenly he looked so familiar that they could almost imagine that it had all been a dream. Again, silence settled over the room, heavy and oppressive. So when Gwaine yawned suddenly, and sheathed his sword, everybody jumped. He shrugged and grinned innocently.

"Well if you're all just going to sit their like statues, I'm going down to the tavern." There was a moments stillness, then Merlin snorted, and Percival punched Gwaine on the arm. Lancelot sighed in exasperation.

"Talk about a one-track mind. Honestly!"

Gwaine rubbed his arm, looking offended.

"What? It's not like they're doing anything interesting. Come on, I'll buy the first round." And with that he grabbed Merlin's sleeve and began to drag him towards the door. Lancelot and Percival took one more look around, then shrugged and started to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The door closed behind them, leaving the Great Hall in shocked silence. Slowly, they all turned their heads to look at each other. Most of their mouths were gaping, and their eyes were wide. No-one seemed able to make their voices work, and not a sound could be heard. So when Merlin suddenly stuck his head back through the door, everybody jumped. He smiled un-certainly at them, before looking at Arthur.

"Err. About those other armies and stuff. I'm gonna assume you do want me to ask them to help. Yeah?" Arthur just stared at him, his skin turning distinctly green.

"Arthur?" Merlin looked worried. "Are you okay?". Arthur shook his head jerkily.

"You. Your. Your head…" Someone –somewhere in the back of his mind he thought it might be Sir Leon- whimpered. Merlin frowned edgily.

"I'm gonna go now. Um. Give you some time to… Well, yeah. And I'll take care of contacting the help." He tried to smile again, but it was more of a grimace. "So, yeah. Bye" And with that he was gone.

Afterwards, Arthur and the rest of the knights would claim to have turned round and calmly discussed what they had just witnessed. But the truth of it was that Elyan promptly threw up all over the table, Arthur nearly fell off his chair after realizing he hadn't been breathing, and Leon just carried on whimpering quietly to himself. Overall, Arthur thought that their reactions, while embarrassing, were perfectly understandable. The sight of a head appearing through a door three inches thick, and then floating with no visible attachment to a body, would put anybody a little out of sorts. Yes, he thought dizzily. And when that head looked straight at you, and began to talk… He closed his eyes, then opened them quickly as the image re-appeared in his mind. Yes, it was quite normal to be a bit uncomfortable, he decided.

He took a deep breath, and raised his head. The room swam a little, but apart from that, everything seemed alright. He cleared his throat. Neither of the other two showed any sign of noticing. He did it again, and when nothing happened he did it a third time. His throat was starting to get a bit sore and at last he raised both arms and slammed his fists down on the table (careful to avoid Elyan's sick). The others jolted and turned their eyes to his face. Although Leon still looked a bit dazed, and his gaze was actually focused at a spot about four feet to Arthur's left, Arthur judged them to be ready to talk. He licked his lips.

"Are you both alright?"

Elyan swallowed and nodded, clearly trying not to let himself look down at the table in front of him. After a quick glance Arthur decided that was probably for the best, and glance towards Leon, who had still to meet his eyes.

"Leon?"

The knights mouth opened, and he too nodded, very slowly.

"Uh."

Arthur chose to take that as a yes, and sat back, arms folded.

"It seems we that we did not know Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival as well as we had thought." He couldn't bring himself to mention Merlin just yet. "The situation has changed. The question is, what do we do about it." He received no help from the other. Elyan just shrugged helplessly, and Leon replied with another "Uh.".

Arthur felt his temper spark to life.

" Do we go and find them, to talk t them? Do we leave them to carry on? Or do we hunt them down and arrest them? Do we kill them for treason? Do we kill them for hiding a sorcerer in the very centre of our council?!" By now he was shouting. "The sorcerer will die, no question. He, no, it, will burn for high treason." His words echoed around the hall, and he took a deep breath, tying to calm himself down. He glared fiercely at the two men in front of him, daring them to comment. He knew, deep down, that it was incredibly unlikely he would ever really execute his three rouge knights, not unless they acted directly against him, and against Camelot. But right now, he found the idea of it savagely appealing. As for Merlin… No, he would think about Merlin later. After he had had time to deal with the realization that he had been lying to Arthur for over seven years. Seven, long, years while Arthur… He shook his head. One step at a time.

He looked up again.

"For now, we will leave them to themselves. It is unlikely that they will do anything today. Elyan, you will see to it that there are guards at every entrance to the city, with warning torches to light at the first sign of an attack. I also want soldiers placed at regular intervals around the outer walls, fully armed. Okay?"

Elyan stood.

"Yes Sire."

"Good. Leon? I want you to round up some of the knights and send them down to the lower city, where they are to make sure that the people are all aware of the situation, but not going into any detail. We can't be certain that there are not spies inside the city, and we don't want any information finding its way to Morgana and her troops. And for God's sake, don't say a word about what just happened in here, either of you. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sire". Elyan stood and squared his shoulders, before bowing deeply and walking to the door. He hesitated briefly, looking a slightly sickly, but then he clenched his jaw and set his hand firmly upon the handle of the door. He shuddered faintly, and Arthur winced in sympathy. If they lived through this, he decided, one of the first things he was going to do would be replacing that door.

Elyan shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them he stood calm. Looking back towards Arthur, he met his King's eyes.

"It has been an honour to serve you, Sire." Arthur raised his chin.

"We're not beaten yet."

Elyan smile was down-right violent.

"No, we're not." And with those words, he left the hall. Arthur sighed and turned back to his oldest friend, who had stuck with him since he had been no more than a toddler.

"I guess this is it." No response.

"Leon?" A slow blink.

"Uh." Arthur's head fell into his hands, and he began to consider the chances that Leon had been traumatised for life. Oh God.


	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, another conversation was taking place.

After leaving the Great Hall, Percival had quickly remembered that the tavern would most likely be closed (in retrospect, there **was a war** in progress), so instead, Gwain had dragged them all up to his own chambers. Although Merlin was quite certain that they all looked extremely guilty (apart from Gwain, who probably couldn't even spell the word), nobody stopped them as they walked through the corridors and up the stairs.

Gwain's chambers were built in the same style as Arthur's, just a little smaller, and as they entered the other three looked around in interest. Despite being the most outgoing and sociable of all the knights, Gwain had always been very private when it came to the inner aspects of his life, both past and present. To Merlin's knowledge, Gwain had never allowed anyone into his rooms, including servants, maids, friends, and the 'night time companions' for which he was so famous for.

It did not surprise any of them that Gwain appeared to be hoarding a stash of alcoholic beverages large enough to flood most of Camelot, and the majority of the surrounding kingdoms too. What they did not expect, however, was the huge collection of artworks which were scattered carelessly over the table and chairs which stood in the centre of the room, as well as being stacked messily by the walls.

As Gwain walked over to a cabinet by one of the windows and opened it to reveal (shocked gasp!) more bottles of variously coloured liquids, Lancelot wondered over to the table and picked one of the pictures up. It was a landscape, beautifully captured in water-colour, depicting a long river winding lazily through a valley surrounded by soaring hills, capped with rocky outcrops. The valley itself was a wash of colour. Lush grasses mixed with bright poppies, cornflowers and wild daisies. A lone oak tree stood a little away from the water, twisted and majestic. Even though the painting itself was not all that big, the detailing was incredible. The oak was no larger than the upper joint of Merlin's thumb, and yet every leaf on the branches, every miniscule knurl in the bark, was visible. Upon the vivid blue of the river, two pin-head sized birds could be seen paddling side by side with the current.

Lancelot looked up as Gwain returned with four glasses and a barrel- in Merlin's opinion, 'big bottle' just didn't cover it- of what Merlin feverishly prayed was run-of-the-mill mead. Ha.

"Hang on a second. Here, hold these." Gwain dropped the barrel into Percival's arms and the cups into Merlin's, and began to push the pictures out of the way. Lancelot gestured to the one that he still held in his hand.

"This is amazing. I've never seen a painting so…real."

Gwain grinned. "I've got paintings and sketches from everywhere I've ever been." He took the glasses from Merlin and set them on the cleared section of the table, before beckoning to Percival to pass him the barrel. While he poured, the others joined Lancelot in flicking through the pictures. There were more landscapes, portraits, still-lifes, buildings, events and quick sketches, depicted in every style and media imaginable. The talent behind the art was un-believable, and despite the vast number of pieces, no two were alike, each one being as exquisitely unique as the next.

They turned back to Gwain and he offered them there drinks. Merlin eyed his suspiciously, before taking a wary sip. He couldn't hold back a small squeak as what was definitely not 'run-of-the-mill mead' **destroyed** the insides of his mouth and throat. From the expression on Percival's face, he was suffering the same torment. Manfully, Merlin managed _not_ to fall to the floor clutching his stomach, but it was a near thing. Predictably, Gwain had downed most of his in one go, and was showing no signs of any discomfort. If Merlin hadn't been frantically wondering if even _warlocks_ could survive with most of their internal organs melted to mush, he would have been impressed. As it was, he simply stood, clasping his mug tightly in both hands and blinking rapidly to try and stop his watering eyes from over-flowing. Across from him, Percival mirrored his actions. In later life, they would refer to this torture as the 'bonding trauma' that truly sealed their friendship.

**(A/N: Sorry I have not written for ages. I actually forgot I was a member of this website, and that I had stories on the go. Oops. Anyway, the more you review -be it good or bad- the more likely I am to remember to write. So feel free to go wild. It's really up to you. )**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

While Merlin and Percival were bravely fighting their intense little wars in silence, the other two had yet to spare them a glance. Lancelot was still raving on about the art, drink held un-tasted and forgotten, as he pointed from piece to piece, demanding to be told the history of each. Eventually Gwain held up his hand.

"Look mate, this is gonna take forever. If you like them that much, you can pick a few and take them for yourself. Lord knows I've got nothing to do with them." Lancelot gaped at him.

"But, these must have cost you a fortune! I doubt even Arthur could afford a fraction of what you have here!"

Gwain smirked and took another swig. "Didn't cost me a penny." Lancelot frowned.

"Then, how did you buy then?" Gwain's smirk widened.

"Who said I bought them?"

Lancelot looked confused, then slowly his expression turned to one of horror.

"You're saying you STOLE them!?" Gwain burst out laughing and Lancelot backed away, as if just being close to either him or the pictures would contaminate him with criminal guilt. Even Merlin and Percival, having just made it through their experience alive, were quite taken aback by the sheer scale of Gwain's crime, but Lancelot looked to be on the verge of hysterics.

"Gwain, these pieces must be worth MILLIONS! And you just…You…Oh God." Apparently at a loss for words, Lancelot lifted his mug to his lips and took a huge gulp.

The effect was immediate. Grasping his throat, he began to choke and gasp. Merlin and Percival, who had started forwards, intending to stop their friend from swallowing, now had to leap back to avoid being splattered. The three of them watched, mesmerized, as the parts of the floor- the STONE floor- where those droplets had landed began to smoke and hiss gently. None of them moved as the limestone was slowly eaten away before their very eyes. After about a minute of this, there came a thoughtful, "Huh. Who knew?" from behind them. Then everything snapped.

Lancelot started to scrape crazily at his tongue, while the other two spun to face Gwain.

"You…What the hell WAS that!?" Percival's voice was hoarse, a combination of the effects of the drink, and a healthy dose of pure, undiluted panic. Gwain shrugged modestly.

"It's one of my own blends. A mixture of vodka, tequila, and that stuff for getting rid of old paint. And then, just for that final touch of flavour, a twist of freshly squeezed orange juice." He smiled proudly. "It's my best so far."

Merlin and Percival glanced at each other. Then, as one, they stepped towards Gwain. Percival's jaw was clenched, and his eyes fixed murderously upon the smaller man, and Merlin knew that his own were glowing bright gold to match the sparks jumping from fingers curled into claws. Gwain's smile faltered as he backed away.

"Guys?"

"You," Percival's voice was low, and deceptively quiet, "gave us drinks made with paint stripper?"

"And orange juice. You can't forget the orange juice. Because everybody loves orange juice. Right?" Gwain was clearly beginning to understand just how much danger he was in, and his pitch was distinctly higher than normal. Merlin was not exactly sure what they would do to Gwain when they reached him, but he was fairly certain that it would be messy.

Luckily for Gwain, it was not to be. Just as the would-be murderers had him backed into a corner, Lancelot called out from behind them.

"Guys, stop." Merlin and Percival turned to him in disbelief, but he held their gazes. "We've got to focus on the matter at hand."

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gwain shake his head in mock disapproval, and wondered, vaguely, if his friend actually had any sense of self-preservation at all. But he knew, deep down, that Lancelot was right, and it shamed him that the knight could be so much more forgiving of Gwain than he himself.

"Besides," Lancelot continued, his eyes cold. "I don't want to risk getting any blood on these paintings." Or not.

In a rare display of wisdom, Gwain managed to remain quiet, and, judging from Lancelot's face, Merlin suspected this may just have saved his life. Or at least, saved him from a large amount of pain. They all returned to the table and sat, careful not to crush any of the pieces of art. When Gwain shoved the ones near him onto the floor and nudged them away with his boot, Lancelot glared at him like he'd just spat in the Holy Grail. Gwain just blinked innocently.

Percival cleared his throat.

"Right. Now that we've all recovered, we'd better get down to business. Merlin, can you put some sort of spell around the room so that no-one can listen in?" Merlin nodded.

"I did that as soon as we came in. I've also put a block on the door, so that even if it's open, nobody but us can come in without our express permission." Maybe that was over-doing it a little, but as his mother always said, you couldn't be too careful. Speaking of his mother…

"My parents are going to be here in a few hours." The others looked surprised.

"Your kingdom is over two weeks ride away, with mountains in the middle. How on Earth are they going to manage that?" Lancelot paused. "And how do they even know to come? You haven't seen your parents in almost five years!"

Merlin raised his eyebrows in a disturbingly good imitation of Gaius.

"I know, right. It's almost as if there is magic involved!"

"Oh." Gwain snorted, and Lancelot grinned sheepishly before asking, "So how are they getting here?"

"Well, it's not the entire army that's coming. No, it'll just be the sorcerers who are strong enough to teleport themselves over- it'll take them a couple of hours, because it's too far for them to travel in one go. They'll have to do it in several shorter jumps- and as many warriors as the dragons can carry over."

"Dragons?" Gwain was practically dancing in his chair. "They're bringing dragons?"

Merlin rolled his eyes

. "Of course there will be dragons. We are a country of magic. My father is High Lord of the dragons. For god's sake, the kingdom is called Draygon. How could there not be dragons involved?"

"Oh, this opens up so many new possibilities! Why, with enough green dye and…" Merlin cut him off.

"Gwain, if you try anything along those lines, I can guarantee that you will go out one day and never be seen again." He paused. "At least, not in any recognisable form. Dragons do not take kindly to being treated in such manners."

Gwain looked dismayed.

"But…"

"No."

"Even…"

"No."

"What about…"

"Gwain, if you do not shut up right now, I will turn all of your drinks into water."

And with Gwain struck momentarily mute with the horror of this idea, the others finally returned to the previous conversation.


End file.
